He had no favorites either, and it was surprising, then, that at one time he felt a curious enthusiasm for the present war, in which he sided with the Germans. He often wondered about Hitler's plans and whether it was possible that the Fuhrer might lose the war and whether the Russians would not be wise to accept the unilateral peace offered them. Kirsha thought of Hitler as the world's greatest bully; indeed, his admiration for him stemmed from what he heard of his cruelty and barbarity. He wished him success, viewing him like those mythical bravados of literature Antar and Abu Zaid.
Despite all this, Kirsha still enjoyed a position of some power in local politics. This was partly because he was the leader of all the cafe owners, who had regular evening meetings, and therefore the leader of their employees and hangers-on. So it was that Farhat cultivated his friendship and spent an hour of his precious time sitting in his cafe to achieve this end.
From time to time he glanced at Kirsha and now he leaned toward the cafe owner's ear and whispered, "Are you happy, then, Mr. Kirsha?"
Kirsha's lips spread in a slight smile as he answered cautiously, "Praise be to God. You are the very soul of goodness and generosity, Mr. Farhat."
"I will compensate you well for what you missed before."
This pleased Kirsha. He glanced into all the faces present, and commented, "If God wills, you won't disappoint our high hopes of you…"
From all sides voices were raised in unison: "Oh, God forbid, Mr. Farhat. You're the man we will vote for."
The candidate smiled and broke into a peroration: "I am, as you know, independent, but I will keep to the true principles of Saad Zaghlul. What good are the parties to us? Haven't you heard their constant, senseless bickering? They are like…" (he almost said "the sons of whores," but he suddenly recalled he was now addressing such sons). He checked himself and continued: "Let's not talk in metaphors. I have chosen to remain independent of the parties, so that nothing will prevent me from telling the truth. I will never be the slave of a minister or a party leader. In Parliament, if God grants us victory, I will always speak in the name of the people of Midaq Alley, Ghouriya, and Sanadiqiya. The days of empty talk and bribery are over, and we are entering a period when nothing will distract us from those matters of vital interest to you — such as increased clothing rations, sugar, kerosene, cooking oil, no more impure bread, and lower meat prices."
Someone asked in all seriousness, "Is it true you will provide these necessities tomorrow?"
"There's no question about it," answered the candidate in a confident tone. "This is the secret of the present revolution. Only yesterday I visited the Prime Minister…" He realized he had said he was independent and went on: "He was receiving all types of candidates, and he told us that his period of office will be one of prosperous plenty."
He moistened his lips and went on: "You will see miracle after miracle," he continued. "And don't forget there will be rewards for all, if win.
"Rewards only after the election results?" asked Dr. Booshy.
The candidate, uneasy with this question, turned toward him and said hurriedly, "And before the results are out, too."
Sheikh Darwish now emerged from his usual silent fold and spoke in a far-off voice: "Just like a dowry; he will give both before and after; so it is with all of them, except you, O Madam of Madams. You bring no dowry, for my spirit drew you down from the heavens themselves."
The candidate swiveled angrily toward the old man, but when he saw Darwish in a cloak and necktie and with gold-rimmed spectacles, he realized that he was a saintly man of God. A smile appeared on Farhat's round face and he said politely, "Welcome, indeed, to our reverend sir."
Darwish made no reply and retreated into his usual state of torpor. Then one of the candidate's supporters shouted, "You can do what you like, but we are going to swear by the Holy Book…"
More than one voice replied, "Yes, that's right. We must…"
Farhat asked to see the voting cards of all present, and when he asked for Uncle Kamil's, the latter explained, "I don't have one. I've never taken part in any election."
The candidate asked, "Where is your birthplace?"
"I couldn't tell you," answered Kamil indifferently.
Everyone in the cafe burst out laughing and Farhat joined them, saying, "I must fix that little matter with the sheikh of the quarter."
A boy dressed in a loose-flowing robe entered the cafe carrying a pile of small posters, which he distributed to all. Many assumed they were election posters and accepted them to please the candidate. Farhat took one and found that it read:
"Something is missing from your married life. Take Sanatury potion. Sanatury potion: Prepared scientifically, it is completely free from injurious ingredients. It has the endorsement of the Ministry of Health under license 128. It will revitalize and rejuvenate you. It will transport you from old age to youth in just fifty minutes.
"How to use it: Put a grain in a glass of very sweet tea and you will find your vitality restored. Far stronger, weight for weight, than any other known stimulant. It flows like electricity through the veins. Get your jar from the distributor of this announcement, the price is only 30 milliemes. So cheap! Your happiness for just 30 milliemes! We welcome our customers' comments."
Once again the laughter in the cafe made the candidate feel a bit uneasy. One of his retinue volunteered to ease his embarrassment by shouting, "This is a good sign." Then he whispered in Farhat's ear, "Let's go. We have many more places to visit."
The candidate rose and addressed the cafe assembly: "We leave you in God's care, then. May we meet again. I hope God will fulfill all our hopes."
He hesitated at Sheikh Darwish's chair, and with a hand on his shoulder, whispered, "Please pray for me, Sheikh."
Emerging from his silence, Sheikh Darwish spread his hands wide in blessing and intoned, "May the devil take you!"
Before the sun had set the pavilion was filled. The audience passed the news from one to the other that an important politician would deliver a major speech. It was also rumored that reciters and comedians would perform. Before long a man appeared on the stage and recited from the Qur'an. He was followed by a musical ensemble consisting of old men in tattered robes who played the national anthem. The music from the loudspeakers instantly attracted young people from the nearby alleys and they soon choked Sanadiqiya Street.
Applause and voices filled the air, and when the national anthem was finished, the musicians made no attempt to leave the stage. Indeed, it almost seemed that the candidates might make their speeches to the accompaniment of music. Several of them stamped hard on the stage floor until the throng was silent. Presently a well-known monologue reciter, dressed in his village costume, rose and instantly the crowd went wild with anticipation and delight. When the applause subsided, the performer delivered his monologue. He was followed by a half-naked woman dancer, whose undulations were accented by cries of "Mr. Ibrahim Farhat — a thousand times… a thousand times." The man in charge of the microphones and loudspeakers joined her shouts with "Mr. Ibrahim Farhat is the very best deputy. Microphones by Bahlul are the finest microphones." The singing, dancing, and applause continued as the entire quarter joined in the celebrations.
When Hamida returned from her afternoon stroll she found the party in full swing. Like everyone else in the alley, she had thought it would be merely a political rally with long speeches delivered in almost incomprehensible classical Arabic. Her heart danced when she saw the merry scene. She quickly looked about for a spot where she could watch the musicians and the dancing, the likes of which she had never seen. She pushed her way through the crowd until she finally reached the entrance to the alley. She moved close to the barbershop and climbed on a big rock near its wall. From here she could see the stage perfectly.